Necroscope V: Deadspawn n-5

by Brian Lumley

  “Oh? Shaithis kept his thoughts guarded. Not live for ever? Well, perhaps not… but close enough, if Shaitan is anything to go by. And wouldn’t that in itself be sufficient reason to team up with the ancient: to discover the secrets of his longevity? It surely would.

  As for Arkis and the Ferenc: Shaithis knew that sooner or later he’d be obliged to have it out with them anyway, so why delay matters? And even better if Shaitan desired to have a hand in it.

  With these thoughts and others like them in his mind (but always guarded, especially thoughts such as these), Shaithis joined the others where they prepared to leave the ice-castle. And a short time later the three set out upon their long, slow climb up the frozen rise to where the central cone jutted some fifteen hundred feet higher still. Like a black, crouching giant the tower of volcanic rock waited for them, sombre under its canopy of cold stars and writhing auroral fire…

  Shaitan’s miniature albino bats accompanied them, almost invisible against the snow-and ice-glare, forming an endless entourage whose members came and went, reporting all back to their immemorial master. In this way he was kept informed of the progress of the three and was pleased to note that they followed a most admirable route — one which would lead them directly into one of his many mantraps. An ambush, aye, except that this time there would be no killing.

  No, for there were other, better things to do with men such as Fess Ferenc and Arkis Leperson than kill them. What? Good, strong Wamphyri flesh such as theirs. And they had their vampires in them, didn’t they? Just as Volse Pinescu had once had his in him…

  Ah, but that had been a treat!

  Volse had been monstrous on the outside, right enough, with all of his pimples, polyps and other excrescences; but just half an inch under his whelky skin there had been a mass of fatty tissues and good, strong, long-pig meat hanging on a frame of bones like any other man. Except, because he was Wamphyri, there was a lot more to him than there was to other men; for deep inside him there was also his vampire. So that after Shaitan’s ingurgitor had drained him of his blood and dragged the shattered shell of him before its master -

  — What sheer delight: to tear open Volse’s pallid body and seek out his leech, the living vampire whose squirming had so cleverly avoided the ingurgitor’s siphon-like probe, but which could not avoid Shaitan. And finally to behead the thing and gorge on its nectar fluids, having first scooped up its skittering egg and stored it in a jar of Volse’s brains mushed to a paste, as a tidbit for later. Ah, yes — for to the Wamphyri, such is the essence of a gourmet feast!

  Even then Shaitan had not been quite finished with his victim. For extracts of Volse’s flesh (which was infected with vampire metamorphism and so not entirely dead even now) would be useful to him in his experimentation, the creation of hybrid creatures such as the ingurgitor and other useful constructs, to which end the flayed, drained, gutted, decapitated, but none the less ‘living’ remains of Volse had been stored with Shaitan’s other materials for use later.

  Aye, even as the giant Ferenc’s and the squat Arkis Leperson’s remains would be stored, if all went according to plan. But as for Shaithis… well, there are plans and there are plans.

  Shaithis was of the blood — of Shaitan’s blood — and of all the Wamphyri who had been, he was also beautiful. Not by human standards, no, but certainly by Shaitan’s. Beautiful, strong, vibrant with life. Ah, but then, the blood is the life! And when Shaitan dwelled on matters such as these, then he, no less than his wily descendant, kept his thoughts well hidden.

  Meanwhile, his small albinos continued to apprise him of the trio’s progress; in a little while he saw that they’d strayed from the path somewhat, so that he must needs redirect them. But in order to do that he must first contact Shaithis, who at that very moment toiled halfway up the fused volcanic slag cliffs toward the western face of the cone. The other two were within hailing distance, but their minds were concentrated on the task in hand.

  Shaitan aimed a narrow, powerful beam of thoughts directly into Shaithis’s mind, with which he was now a little better acquainted: Son of my sons, he said, you go somewhat astray. Your route requires some small adjustment.

  Shaithis was momentarily startled but quickly controlled the agitated flutter of his thoughts. Not before Fess Ferenc had sensed something, however.

  ‘What?’ Fess called out across the precipitous, naked rock face. ‘Did something alarm you just then, Shaithis?’

  ‘My foot slipped on a patch of ice,’ Shaithis lied. ‘It’s a long way down. If I had fallen… I was gearing myself for metamorphosis.’

  The Ferenc nodded across the gulf. ‘Aye, we grow weak. Upon a time I’d revel in forming an air-shape and flying from these heights. Now it would deplete me considerably. We must watch how we go.’

  Now Shaithis could answer his ancestor’s inquiry, but he must do so carefully, with all of his effort concentrated on keeping his telepathic sendings private. To this end he made himself secure on a small ledge before answering: Shaitan, you almost gave me away then. Now tell me, how do we stray from the path? And how may I correct it? Also, you’d better tell me what to expect. I’ve no desire to end up pierced to the heart and drained off — like Volse Pinescu.

  Fool! the other at once hissed. I thought we had had that out? If I wanted you dead you would be dead. I could send a creature even now to buffet you, all three, from the face of the cliff. Perhaps you’d fly and perhaps not. Whichever, you’d be depleted. And my creatures would find you and finish it. But I need you Shaithis — we need each other — and so you live. As for the others: I do not wish to damage them. I want them whole! Can’t you see what a fine pair of warriors Arkis and the Ferenc would make?

  Shaitan’s words were so ominous he could only be speaking truth. He would not dare boast of such superiority unless he could deliver. It was in effect an ultimatum, even a threat: make up your mind, join me now or suffer the consequences.

  In answer to which: Very well, said Shaithis, we work together. Tell me what to do.

  Without pause Shaitan explained:

  The leper’s son climbs too far towards the east, diagonally away from you. In his way lies an old unguarded lava-run which leads directly to my rooms at volcano’s core. If Arkis were to discover the mouth of this cave he could jeopardize my position; certainly my plans would require rapid and radical alteration.

  An unguarded entrance? Careless of you.

  My resources are not unlimited. No more talk. You must draw the others — especially Arkis — back towards you.

  Very well, said Shaithis. And to the others, out loud: ‘Arkis, Fess, we’re too far apart — and I sense a problem to the east.’

  Arkis at once secured himself in a lava-niche and peered out and about. ‘A problem?’ he blustered. ‘And close by, you say? Huh! I sense nothing.’ But his voice was full of nervous tension and his thoughts went this way and that.

  The Ferenc, closer to Shaithis by some fifty feet, began to edge towards him. ‘Something has bothered me all along,’ he said. ‘I’ve had my suspicions, anyway. And you’re right, Shaithis: spread out like this we’re too easy to pick off.’

  ‘But I see and feel nothing!’ Arkis again protested, like a man whistling in the dark.

  With a shrug in his voice, Shaithis called out to him: ‘Are you saying that your Wamphyri awareness is stronger than both of ours combined? Then by all means let’s test it out. Do as you will. Be the master of your own destiny. At least you were warned.’

  That was enough; Arkis started climbing more to the left, bringing himself back into line on a course converging with the others. And not a moment too soon; for Shaithis, from his own position, had finally spotted the dark shadow of a cave to Arkis’s right and a little above him. By now the leper’s son would certainly have come across it.

  In Shaithis’s mind the dark thoughts of his ancestor came a little easier. Good! The problem was not insurmountable, but the easy way is usually the best.

  What now? S
haithis inquired of him.

  Above you is a wide ledge formed of an earlier cone, Shaitan answered. When you strike it, move to the left, that is westward. Soon you will come across another lava-run; ignore it and carry on. The next entrance will seem like a mere crack occasioned as the rock cooled, but this is your route into the volcano. Except you should take up a position to the rear of the others! Do I make myself plain?

  Shaithis shivered, perhaps a little from the numbing cold, which was beginning to bite even into his Wamphyri bones, but mainly at what was implied. For thoughts, like speech, often lend themselves to diverse interpretation, and certainly he’d detected the ominous ‘tone’ of the other’s slyly insinuating mental voice. Yes, and he’d known that the depth of Shaitan’s thoughts did not bear plumbing. It was strange to be Wamphyri and yet feel something of awe at the implied evil in another’s scheming.

  Shaitan, he eventually, cautiously answered, I’m putting my trust in you. It seems my future is now in your hands.

  And mine in yours, said the other. Now continue to guard your thoughts and concentrate on your climbing.

  And he was gone again.

  Shaithis suddenly found himself wondering at the wisdom of this dark liaison. Indeed there seemed little of wisdom in it; it was mainly a matter of instinct, and of course necessity. But any advantage was Shaitan’s. This was his territory and he knew it well, and he was not without resources. Shaithis could only hope that the ancient’s plans for the Ferenc and Arkis Leperson did not extend to him also. But he sensed that they did not. Not for now, anyway.

  His Wamphyri instinct again, which had seldom let him down. But there’s always a first time. And a last…

  He avoided morbid conjecture and looked for brighter omens. Of course there was always his dream: that first dream of the Lady Karen’s aerie, where he had been returned to power after some fabulous conquest of Starside and the destruction of The Dweller’s garden. He had the feeling that as dreams go there had been an element of foretokening to it. Except there was an old Wamphyri maxim that men should never read the future too closely, for to do so is to tempt destiny. And anyway, the dream had ended in disaster and ruin — but at least it had hinted that there was in fact a future to look forward to. How much of a one was anyone’s guess.

  ‘A ledge,’ Fess Ferenc grunted, dragging himself up ahead of Shaithis. As Shaithis’s face appeared level with the rim, the giant reached down a huge, taloned hand; Shaithis looked at it for several long moments, then took it. And the Ferenc hauled him easily up on to the level surface.

  ‘Last time you had the chance you threw me down,’ Shaithis reminded him.

  ‘Last time you were reaching for your gauntlet!’ the giant replied.

  Then Arkis came up and joined them. ‘You and your premonitions!’ he grumbled. ‘I still say I sensed nothing harmful. Also, I believe I was almost into some sort of cave. It might well have been a tunnel.’

  But Shaithis said, ‘Oh? An empty cave, d’you think? Or did it perhaps contain one of Fess’s sword-snouts?’

  ‘Wouldn’t I have sensed it?’ Arkis frowned.

  Fess Ferenc scowled. ‘Volse didn’t,’ he said. ‘Nor did I, until it was too late.’ And turning to Shaithis, ‘What now?’

  Shaithis narrowed his scarlet eyes and made a small show of sniffing the air with his flattened, convoluted snout. ‘The area to the right still feels dangerous to me,’ he said. ‘So I vote we follow this rim to the left a while, out of the suspect region. We’ll see where it leads. At least it will give us a breather from all this climbing.’

  The Ferenc nodded his grotesque head. ‘Suits me. But how we’ve come down in the world, eh?’

  As they set off along the ledge, Arkis said, ‘Come down? How so?’

  The Ferenc shrugged. ‘Just look at us. Three Lords — or ex-Lords — of the Wamphyri, stripped of most of our powers, going like frightened children in a huddled group to explore strange new regions. And afraid of what might jump out on us!’

  ‘Afraid?’ Arkis puffed himself up. ‘Speak for yourself!’

  The Ferenc sighed and said simply, ‘But I saw the thing that lanced the Great Boil, remember?’

  At that moment it grew darker and the three paused to glance speculatively, apprehensively at each other. A thin cloud layer had drifted in to cover the higher reaches of the cone. The first small flakes of snow began to drift down and coat the ledge.

  Arkis looked at the sky all about. ‘One cloud?’ He voiced his thoughts out loud. ‘Which just happened to form here? A vampire mist, d’you think?’

  ‘Obviously,’ said the Ferenc. ‘Whoever dwells here, he’s sensed us coming and seeks to make it harder for us. He makes his lair more obscure, and the way to it more difficult.’

  ‘Which means we’re on the right track,’ Shaithis added. He set off again along the ledge, and behind him the others almost automatically followed on.

  ‘Huh!’ Arkis grunted. ‘Well, at least your premonitions were good. Perhaps too good. It seems to me this one has the edge on us. He sees and knows all while we remain in the dark, as it were.’ He swatted at a small white bat which flitted too close.

  And the Ferenc’s eyes went wide as he gave a small start and burst out, ‘His albinos! His bats! We should have known. That’s how he tracks our course. The midges pursue us like fleas after a wolf cub!’

  Shaithis nodded sagely. ‘I had suspected as much. They’re his minions no less than Desmodus and his small black cousins were ours back on Starside. They scan our whereabouts and circumstances, reporting all back to… whoever.’

  Arkis gaped and grasped his arm, drawing him to a halt. ‘You suspected these things and said nothing?’

  ‘A suspicion is only a suspicion until it’s an established fact,’ Shaithis answered, angrily shrugging away the other’s restraining hand. ‘And anyway, it makes a very important point and gives us an insight into his circumstances.’

  ‘Eh? Insight? Circumstances? What are you on about? What point does it make?’

  ‘Why, that the cone’s master fears us! Bats to report our movements; a snowfall to hinder us; a sword-snouted creature guarding his hive, as the soldier bees of Sunside guard their honey? Oh, yes, he fears us — which in turn means that he’s vulnerable.’ And to himself: Good reckoning — perhaps he really is. But still I’ll take my chances with him. At least we have this much in common: our intelligence.

  And at once, gurgling in Shaithis’s mind: And our blood, my son. Don’t forget our blood!

  Again, at once, the Ferenc snapped, ‘What?’ His huge head swung round in Shaithis’s direction, and his eyes glared under gathered black brows. ‘What was that? Did you say — or think — something just then, Shaithis?’

  Shaithis hid his momentary panic behind bland innocence. ‘Eh?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Say something? Think something? What’s on your mind, Fess?’ And as the Ferenc and Arkis scanned nervously all about, he sent a triple-shielded thought: Twice you’ve almost given me away, Shaitan. Do you think this is a game? If there’s so much as a hint of what I’m up to, I’m a goner!

  The Ferenc scowled. ‘On my mind? No, nothing on my mind, except to get finished with this, that’s all.’ He straightened from his half-crouch. ‘So what say you: do we go on, or do we call it a day? Is he vulnerable, this master of the volcano, or are we even more so? It’s a nervy business, this climbing in the snow, not knowing what’s waiting for us.’

  Shaitan came whispering into Shaithis’s mind:

  Get on with it; bring them in; bring them to me! Do it quickly. For he’s no fool, this giant. He’s sensitive and we’ve both underestimated him. You’ll need to watch him — and carefully.

  ‘I’ve noticed,’ said Shaithis to the others, almost conversationally, ‘how the small albinos come and go from the west. So I say we stick to the ledge and see where it goes.’

  ‘No!’ the Ferenc growled. ‘Something’s wrong, I’m sure of it.’

  Shaithis looked at him, then at
Arkis. ‘Do you wish to go down again? Have we wasted all our time and effort? Has a cloaking vampire mist entirely unnerved you? But our enemy wouldn’t have issued it unless we had unnerved him!’

  Arkis said, ‘I’m with the Ferenc.’

  Shaithis shrugged. ‘Then I go on alone.’

  ‘Eh?’ The Ferenc stared hard at him. ‘Then be sure you go to your death.’

  ‘How so? Is this the place where Volse was taken?’

  ‘No, that was on the other side, but…’

  ‘Then I’ll take my chances.’

  Arkis said, ‘Alone?’

  Shaithis shrugged. ‘Which is worse, to die now or later? Better to do it here, I think, locked in combat, than locked in the ice with something drilling its way to my heart.’ And then, suddenly, as if he’d run out of patience, he hissed at both of them: There are three of us, remember! Three “great” — hah! — Wamphyri Lords against… what? An unknown being who quite obviously fears us almost as much as we — as you — fear him.’ And he turned away from them.

  ‘Shaithis!’ the Ferenc called after him in a tone half-angry, half-admiring.

  ‘Enough,’ Shaithis snapped over his shoulder. ‘I’ve done with you. If I win through all is mine. And if I lose — well, at least I’ll die as I’ve lived, Wamphyri!’

  He continued along the ledge, and without looking back sensed the eyes of the two following him. Then: ‘We’re with you,’ came the Ferenc’s final decision, but still Shaithis stared straight ahead. And at last he heard Arkis’s voice, too, calling out: ‘Shaithis, wait for us!’

  He did no such thing but hurried on that much faster, so that now they must scramble to catch up. And with the pair hot on his heels so he came upon the mouth of the first cave even as Shaitan had forewarned. Here, because it would be expected of him, Shaithis paused. Breathing heavily, the others saw the dark cavern entrance into which he concentrated his gaze.

  ‘A way in, d’you think?’ said Arkis, but none too eagerly.

  Shaithis stared harder yet into the cave’s gloomy interior, then made a show of carefully backing away from it. ‘Obviously so,’ he said. ‘Perhaps too obviously…’ And to the Ferenc: ‘What say you, Fess? For it’s amply apparent that the cold of these climes has focused your awareness to a fault. Is this a safe way to go or not? Myself, I think not. It seems to me that far back in the cavern something stirs. I sense a thing of great bulk but limited intelligence, yet stealthy, too.’ Which was, of course, the Ferenc’s own description of a sword-snout. And as Shaithis had hoped might be the case, it put a picture of just such a creature into the giant’s mind.